


Chicken Tetrazzini

by anyothergirl415



Series: A Quotable Verse [2]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-06
Updated: 2010-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:45:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha knows movies. Mike knows Misha. They make it work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chicken Tetrazzini

It was a pleasantly weird thing, the way Misha went from being a spontaneous light in his otherwise dull days to being a steady constant pulsing part of his world. For awhile the man just kept showing up at random times, in places Mike hadn’t told anyone that he was going to be, spouting out some one liner that told Mike almost instantly what type of mood he was in. It really hadn’t taken that long for Mike to translation _Misha_ , which was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Is that you, Martha? I don’t want to be disturbed.” Which translated to: Misha had a crappy day and wanted them to just _be_ for awhile, quiet and peaceful. Mike would take his hand or wrap an arm over his shoulder, press a gentle kiss to his lips and go back to reading or homework or simply staring off into space and trying to figure out how he’d gotten so god damn blessed.

“Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories.” This meant Misha was feeling that weird little stirring in his heart that Mike got whenever a comfortably warm silence fell between them and they lost themselves in each other’s eyes. It was sweet and cheesy and all the sappy things Mike could count off on his fingers but that never stopped him from pressing a tender kiss to Misha’s lips and sighing with a contented air.

“Mother, what’s wrong with me?” Truthfully that one had stumped Mike for a moment and he stared at Misha over his meatball sub, mouth open wide, eyebrows lifted an inch or two. Then Misha had dropped down beside him, sliding a hand between his leg, pressing fingers firm into his crotch and grinned so brightly Mike nearly bit his tongue. Apparently that meant Misha was in a _mood_ and quite possibly the kinkiest person Mike knew.

The Exorcist? Really?

Also. It was beyond true. The kinkiest person thing.

They fucked. All the _time_. Not that Mike was complaining, he’d be a fucking idiot to pass up on any offers Misha made to him. Sure he’d been with guys before, more than a handful if he was being honest – and not in the least bit modest – but there was something about Misha. It wasn’t the enigma-esque oddity of him, though that likely didn’t hurt. It wasn’t even really the unfathomable beauty, icy blue eyes that pierced his heart, silky pink lips that looked oh-so-pretty wrapped around his cock, untidy mass of dark hair that screamed to be pulled and tugged as he drove him hard down into the mattress. Yeah, those things didn’t hurt the cause either but there was something _more_.

Sometimes it was like Misha just completed some part of him. They could be eating quietly in the booth at Burger King, or laying side by side on a grassy hill beneath mushroom shaped clouds, or holding hands walking from one side of the campus to the other, and Mike would just feel _whole_. If you believed that every person was meant for someone, that every couple was a whole split in two at the beginning of time and cursed to spend each life finding each other, than Misha was probably the other half. The jelly to his peanut butter, the macaroni to his cheese, the reason he could spend hours thinking stupid romantic thoughts with words attached like _love_ and _forever_.

Back to the fucking, however. Yeah, Mike was a _big_ fan and he called Misha a needy slut because it made him blush and roll down harder, taking it without hesitation, begging for it with silent open mouthed gasps. It was the closest time he ever got to speaking in something other than a quote – and really? Mike had heard enough Monsters Inc. references to last him a lifetime. Also? If Jensen called him _Mike Wazoski_ one more time he was seriously going to seek payback in the form of honey in his sheets in the middle of the night.

The idea of how red and pissed off Jensen’s face would get if he woke up covered in the sugary substance had Mike laughing, which wouldn’t have been too bad if his muscles weren’t still quivering from thorough marathon fucking sessions Misha had been tangled up in for the past hour at least. Possibly longer. Time sort of blurred when Misha got naked, or came around at all really.

A hand connected to the middle of his chest in a slap and Mike grinned, head falling to the side to peer at half closed eyes. “Nothing,” he answered the unspoken question and smiled brighter when Misha gave him that warm look he always got when Mike just _understood_. “Hey, why always movies? Have you ever thought of quoting like… TV shows? Or songs? Open up your selection a little.”

Misha gave him a look that said either _do you know how many movies are out there to quote?_ Or _can you imagine me quoting hit me baby one more time?_

It was a good argument. Mike laughed and curled into Misha’s side, depositing an arm around his middle and affectively using the man’s shoulder as a pillow. “Yeah alright, I suppose I couldn’t live through you quoting Backstreet Boys songs anyway,” he grinned into Misha’s skin and nipped hard enough to make the man squeak.

There was still a slightly goofy smile on his lips when his eyelids finally felt too heavy to keep open any longer. They’d shifted positions now; Mike spooned behind Misha, pulling him in until they ceased to be Mike and Misha and became something _more_. Like Miska or Collinbaum. Whatever, he’d work on the conjoining of their names when his brain wasn’t sex fried.

“Goodnight, goodnight, sleep well and when you dream, dream of me," Misha murmured sleepily and spread his fingers wide over Mike’s around his waist.

Mike smirked, forehead pressing down between shoulder blades. “Long as you don’t call me Maria.” Misha’s body rumbled with laughter against his own and Mike’s heart flip flopped like a fish on dry land.

-=-=-=-

They kind of weren’t… anything. Which was weird because Misha was pretty much his _everything_. Seriously. Weeks passed and Mike began to miss the man the minute they weren’t together, he found himself doodling his name along the sides of his notebook in class, tracing little hearts around the letters and frowning when he realized what that meant. Or could mean. It got pretty bad in the form of Misha’s picture suddenly appearing on the background of his phone though Mike couldn’t remember putting it there. So, yeah, Mike was in a little over his head.

“Hey, Boo,” Misha greeted as he left himself into Mike’s apartment. He didn’t remember giving him a key either. But that was likely only because he never really _gave_ it, more like stood in front of the man without a word and slipped it on his key ring. A silent offering. That was three days ago, and here Mike was.

Mike had just enough time to recline back on the couch before he had a lap full of hard muscles and long limbs. His greeting was cut off by the slant of lips and the lingering pass of tongues. When they finally separated Mike’s grin matched Misha’s in brightness. “What’s up?”

“Fasten your seatbelts, it’s gonna be a bumpy night,” Misha informed, climbing off his lap and tugging Mike up to his feet, dragging him across the living room.

“We’ve got plans then?” Mike confirmed, having just enough time to snag his plaid coat from the wall before they were out the front door.

"The, uh, stuff that dreams are made of." The man confirmed and shot him a grin that counteracted the soft pause in the words. It was weird how Misha could do that, take a quote and give it real meaning. Almost as weird as how many quotes Misha managed to remember in the first place, how rarely he repeated himself.

Mike had this hunch that Misha had the entire script of more than a dozen movies memorized. “The guessing game then?” He suggested, smiling at the man as their fingers brushed then threaded together. The guessing game was something they played fairly often and basically the only way Mike stood any chance of deciphering these random outings. He’d gotten pretty good at narrowing things down to activity and location, Misha was ultra crafty with his quotes. He received a nod and a smirk and a brush of shoulders in answer. “Alright. So, it’s late afternoon. Dinner then?” A squeeze of fingers, he was on the right path. Mike waited until Misha lead them down the sidewalk – away from the parking lot – before glancing at Misha’s clothing. It was his comfy clothes, his home clothes, and a good clue. “Dinner at your place?”

“Be afraid. Be very afraid,” Misha murmured in a mock whisper, gesturing through the air ahead of them back and forth with over exaggerated swooshes.

Pursing his lips for a moment Mike resisted a laugh and brought Misha’s hand to his lips to press a kiss to the top. “Dinner with Jensen then huh? You gonna make one of your masterpieces?” Their eyes locked and Mike savored the slight surprise behind icy blue, savored how quickly it was replaced with something bright and pleased.

“You know how I know you’re gay?” Misha began and Mike snorted at the words.

“How?” He couldn’t resist taking the bait.

“You like the movie _Maid in Manhattan_.” Misha grinned, slipping his hand free to wrap around Mike’s waist.

“You know how I know you’re gay?” Mike continued, hell, who _hadn’t_ seen the 40 Year Old Virgin enough to direct quote it?

“How?” Misha’s face was bright with amusement; fingers sliding down to tuck into Mike’s back pocket.

“I saw you make a spinach dip in a loaf of sourdough bread once.” Mike laughed in unison with the man as they stopped at a cross walk.

“You know how I know you’re gay?” Misha continued through a laugh, following Mike along the stripped white lines.

“How?” Glancing his way, Mike’s eyebrows rose slightly as Misha guided away from what would have been the back path to his apartment and in the opposite direction instead.

Misha smirked and shrugged. “Because you are holding each other ever so gently.” The fingers in his pocket curled, digging through denim into muscle and Mike suppressed a moan.

“Tease,” Mike grumbled good naturally and turned his head to press a firm kiss to Misha’s temple.

So maybe they weren’t _officially_ something but he kind of liked to think they were. Clearly, he was pretty damn into the guy and that wasn’t likely to change any time soon.

-=-=-=-

"Insanity runs in my family. It practically gallops." Misha informed in between picking selection of mushrooms and dropping them into a clear plastic bag.

Glancing at him out of the corner of his eye Mike tried not to look too surprised. Pretty random, as far as random and Misha went, and he waited a moment before venturing a suggestion as to the man’s line of thought. “They uh… give you a call?”

They were halfway down the pasta isle before Misha nodded, fingers extending out to trail over packages before settling on angel hair. "It's not personal, Sonny. It's strictly business."

Sometimes it drove Mike a bit crazy, not getting a straight answer. Thankfully he’d drilled Jensen enough to have at least a general idea what the man was talking about. Misha’s dad had been in the Army since before the man was born and they used to travel a lot. Jensen had learned this during a lengthy phone call with Mrs. Collins and apparently Misha and his dad didn’t get along so well. Mike had a hunch it was only worse now. “They wanted to talk to you about the quote thing huh?” Mike guessed and Misha’s flinch told him yes. “And it didn’t go so well?”

"Why do they all look like unhappy rabbits?" Came Misha’s slightly breathless reply, eyes drifting up to Mike’s before he grasped the cart by the handles and led on.

So it was safe to assume that Misha’s parents were more than fed up with his little quirk. And, sure, it could be overwhelming but wasn’t that just part of life? You accept the way a person was and, if you loved them enough, you rolled with it. “Hey,” Mike said softly as they rounded the next isle and Misha stopped to survey cake boxes. “You’ll get there yeah? So you’re a little… unique. We all have our things.”

The light in Misha’s eyes shone clear under the electrical circuits above and he stared at Mike so hard the man almost stepped back. A hand curved around the collar of coat, thumb brushing over his skin, and Misha’s lips parted. “I…” It hovered there for a moment, one vowel but more of a hint that something important was about to happen.

Then the hand was gone and Misha’s head dropped. Mike could still make out the hint of his smile when he turned back to the shelf but he was more focused on the almost moment that had just passed. It could have been nothing, it would have been easy to shrug it off, but Mike just _knew_ it was the beginning of more.

-=-=-=-

“Chicken tetrazzini,” Mike read off the recipe card and smiled. “Sounds tasty.”

Grinning, Misha nodded and resumed cutting the chicken on the board in front of him. “You can never replace anyone because everyone is made up of such beautiful specific details.” Another moment of bright blue flashed before him before Misha turned to carry the board over to the frying pan.

“Aw, thanks bunches,” Mike cooed, sliding up behind him to encircle his arms around his waist and squeeze.

“Ew, boy touches,” Jensen said by way of a greeting, striding into the kitchen and pushing himself up onto the counter.

“As if you aren’t a flaming queer,” Mike shot him an under heated look and pressed a kiss to the back of Misha’s neck before stepping back.

“Do you ever put your arms out and just spin and spin and spin? Well, that's what love is like. Everything inside of you tells you to stop before you fall, but you just keep going.” Misha recited the lines perfectly and turned to give Mike a bright smile.

Face flushing slight Mike felt that familiar little flip flop of his heart and leaned back against the counter. “He’s pretty much the best boyfriend ever,” Mike informed Jensen and grinned his way before looking back at the man. So, he’d laid it out there, put an official title on things, and at least he could know something for certain.

Apparently Misha was pleased by the title, if the next crushing kiss against his lips was anything to go by. They stayed that way even when Jensen groaned and the doorbell rang.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve got it,” Jensen grumbled on his way out of the room.

“So uh, boyfriend is good then?” Mike asked when Misha pulled back for air.

Misha’s answer was in the form of a nod and another lingering kiss before he slid back to the frying pan. Mike couldn’t get the pleased grin to fade from his lips.

“Guys, this is Jared. Jared, meet Mike and Misha, a.k.a. the epic love couple,” Jensen swept his arm in front of him and beamed, clearly pleased at the arrival of this… Jared.

The guy was pretty good looking so Mike could at least understand the excitement. “Hey, nice to meet you,” he smiled and shook Jared’s hand, flinching when the man squeezed a tad too tight.

“Oh yeah, sorry. About the hand shaking thing. I get… weird… when I’m nervous,” Jared explained and grinned so bright it almost hurt to look at.

“Don’t worry, Mike understands _weird_ ,” Jensen offered and gave Misha a smile that said he was nothing but fond of his roommate.

Wiping his hands on his jeans, Misha stepped forward and eyed Jared before shaking his hand. “Do you prefer fashion victim or ensemblely challenged?”

Mike laughed because a, his _boyfriend_ had seen Clueless (and no, he wasn’t admitting to seeing it as well) and b, come on, the guy was wearing a pink stripped shirt, light blue jeans and bright green sandals. “He means hello, nice to meet you Jared, your choice of clothing is quite unusual.” Mike explained, hand slipping around Misha’s waist and pulling him in close.

Jared looked mildly confused for a moment before his face cleared and he glanced over at Jensen. “Oh. _Oh_. This is uh… this is the friend that talks only in movie quotes right.”

A faint blush colored Jensen cheeks and he nodded quickly. “That’s Misha for you.”

“It’s endearing,” Mike said, trying not to let his voice sound too defensive. Jared seemed alright, like maybe he’d be willing to just go with it, but Mike wasn’t going to back down and give him a choice to do otherwise. Either Jared was onboard, or they’d be having dinner alone.

“No, hey, it’s cool. I mean, unique. That’s gotta be uh… well. Interesting,” Jared smiled once more and glanced a little nervously down at Jensen.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm a schizophrenic and so am I,” Misha said easily and gave what could only be classified as a mischievous smile.

Laughing softly at the startled expression on Jared’s face, Mike slapped Misha on the ass and shook his head. “Hey now, don’t freak the kid out. He already has to put up with Jensen, let’s give him a little sympathy.”

“Shut up,” Jensen scoffed and rolled his eyes, tugging Jared across the room. “Mike just thinks he’s so cool.”

“Uh huh,” Jared nodded and went along willingly.

-=-=-=-

“I wonder how many people never get the one they want, but end up with the one they're supposed to have.” Misha interjected into the lull in their conversation.

They’d been talking about school mostly, Jensen was apparently really into this Jared because he kept saying things like _Jared has two dogs named Harley and Sadie and they’re so sweet_ and _Jared is going to school for elementary education isn’t the sweet?_ Mike thought any elementary kid might be a little terrified by the sheer size of the guy but, whatever.

So Misha’s comment came a little out of nowhere and Mike glanced over at him with a slight frown. He knew from Jensen that Misha had never been in a real serious relationship before; his… thing… was often too much for people to handle. Which meant this _one they want_ wasn’t in reference to a person. And Misha, however random, rarely said something without it tying into the conversation at hand. That left Jensen, Jared being a virtual newbie to the group, and Mike turned his way.

“Dude, what?” Jensen grumbled; clearly ready dismiss Misha’s comment as he often did.

“He approves of you,” Mike informed Jared with a warm smile, laughing when the man blushed brightly. “And apparently you’re better than the last guy Jensen was with.”

“What?” Jensen looked at Mike with narrowed eyes. “How did you get that from _that_?” He gestured toward Misha with his fork.

A hand squeezed along his thigh, probably the only thing keeping him from saying something to Jensen he might regret later. “Yeah _dude_ ,” he drawled, a little unnecessarily long. “It’s not that hard. So you had some guy before, thought he was the shit, he did you wrong and you got burned. Now you’re trying again and Misha approves of your choice.”

Jared turned redder than a tomato and Jensen wasn’t too far behind him. Misha laughed softly and ruffled Mike’s short hair, nodding in agreement. “I’m older and wiser, you could learn something from me,” Misha offered and pushed up from the table, carrying his and Mike’s plate into the kitchen.

“So, you can translate the Misha?” Jensen murmured, eyes slightly narrowed but clearly not upset. If anything, he seemed just shocked, as if no one could ever unpuzzle his roommate.

Mike laughed and shrugged. “It’s really not that hard. You just have to listen.” Before Jensen could question or wipe the surprise from his face Mike stood and followed Misha into the kitchen. The man was simply standing in front of the sink, staring down at nothing, and the smile disappeared from Mike’s lips. “Hey? What’s the matter?”

A faintly surprised gasp left his lips when Misha looked up. His boyfriend’s eyes were shiny wet with unshed tears, creating the strangest pool like image. Mike’s heart clenched slightly and he stepped forward, reaching out to take his hand.

“What is it? Misha?” Mike stepped in closer, stumbling back a moment later as arms were thrown around his shoulders, squeezing tightly.

“Take love, multiply it by infinity and take it to the depths of forever... and you still have only a glimpse of how I feel for you.” The words were whispered against his ear, quiet puffs of warm air sending a shiver down his spine.

Mike’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes clenched closed, heart fluttering so out of control it almost hurt. “Yeah,” he breathed, arms squeezing tight around Misha’s lips. “I love you too.” It hardly seemed like anything compared to the words Misha had said and Mike fleetingly wished he had something so sweet and heart stopping to say.

Pulling back slightly Misha grinned. “Kiss my hot lips.”

Mike snorted a laugh and dropped forward, doing just that. He made a mental note to look that quote up later, for curiosities sake.


End file.
